Uncategorized – Page 2 – Solo Female Cycling Around The World

Para-Cycling, The Balancing Act Of A Champion

Sheyda’s M. Heydar’s first bicycle was an old red bicycle that he found near his dusty stone home in his desert village, it was 1981 in Afghanistan. Sheyda smiles at the memory of riding his red bicycle to school. As I peer down at Sheyda’s identification card, it reads ‘Iran Cycling Federation of The Islamic Republic’. I am bursting and can barely contain my cheer inside, for meeting a professional cyclist is a huge treat.

Sheyda’s affection for sports began as a young child on the dusty stone streets in his village near Kabul, Afghanistan. As youngsters do, he was taught be his family how to ride a bicycle. Soon the Taliban, a notoriously extreme political group took over the country side. Armed with bombs, guns and violent enforcement, the Taliban terrorized the area with new rules. Women and children were banned from schools. Museums, medical buildings and school texts were burned, banned or banished.

Sheyda could no longer ride his red bicycle to attend school. The streets were exploding in fear and such freedoms were now a frivolous thing of the past. Bomb blasts were a daily affair. Sheyda was given a gun by his neighbor. As a boy child, it was mandatory to replace his red bicycle with a weapon. He was ordered to carry it and protect his family on the bomb laced streets alongside his neighbors. Soon thereafter, Sheyda lost his leg to a Taliban bombing and fled Afghanistan to Iran, his family had been killed.

Today, Sheyda’s around town bicycle is no longer red but is a silver Peugeot mtn. bike equipped with one spd clip pedal. He is a professional para-cyclist sprint racer and most recently competed in the international para-games in Gangzou, China. He is presently training in Shiraz, Iran on the sprint track with the other Iranian professional cyclists. He hopes to beat his sprint record in the upcoming international games. I know this sister cyclist will definitely be bursting with cheer for him on the inside and the out.

Girly Girl Gear For Guys Too

Last week, I received an e-mail, it was a questionnaire that a bicycle touring website gives to women cyclists. They wanted to know how many pairs of panties I am packing in my panniers. I told them that my be the adventure panties were none of their business.

However, if they wanted to know what kind of PANNIERS I was packing I would love to talk about it. So here it is. I love my panniers and if you must know, yes they really do keep my panties safe, completely dry and condensation free in all conditions. And the best part of all? If you buy yours at skalatitude.com it doesn’t cost you anything extra and the small percentage skalatitude.com receives goes towards the purchase of a bicycle ambulance.

Dear Universe please let a truck stop, I think I need help arranging my funeral

My stomach gives up sometime during the night as I am camping during the season’s first frost and I lose track exactly how many times I have hurled. When the sun comes up in the morning, I pack up and decide to pedal into the closest town to look for a pharmacy or a place to die, whichever comes first. With my imminent death so near, immediately after hurling again, I say out loud while standing with magic bicycle on the side of the road. I say to the frosty Middle Eastern near winter air, I say

Dear Universe, please help me find a place to die or a pharmacy

My stomach has finally collapsed and succumbed to the bicycle tourist plight of a million different foods, waters and bacteria’s. After 2 ½ years of continuous bicycle travel my stomach has cart wheeled into one food and water adventure to the next and like the TV show fear factor sometimes it doesn’t always work out. However, this time it is different from all the other times, cycling, walking, laying down, and sitting are no longer possible. About all I can still manage is a glazed eyed, head scarf straightened half smile, a buckled over thumbs up and righteous attempt to not puke on myself in the wind.

Dear Universe, thank you for intervening on my behalf

After 15 minutes intervals of cycling, stomach cramps, walking, puking and curling up on the side of the road, the universe intervenes on my stubborn, wood headed behalf. Pandemic the Magic Bicycle and I are collected by a super concerned man with a truck. About all I can still manage is a thumbs up, a smile and a thank you in Persian, the local language, as I crawl towards the saint, I mean truck. The man lifts Pandemic into the back of the truck because my stomach definitely isn’t about to lift Pandemic The Magic Bicycle loaded on this occasion.

Hospitality in Muslim countries is legendary. My new friend thinks I have a injured leg, probably because I am walking doubled over, I motion it is my stomach. He wants to take me to his home and feed me. With my best travelers gesture I motion that I am sick, and say I need a pharmacy, a medicine store. He drives me to a hospital.

Pro-tip while gesturing sickness in any language always remember to be comically obvious, sound effects are helpful as well

As a tourist in Iran, I am guest of the country and it is very important that I have a good experience while travelling here. Police man, medical directors, hospitals managers, head nurses and anyone who knows 2 words of English are brought to my assistance when I ask about a pharmacy to buy some antacids. Not having any idea what is wrong with my belly I decide I should start with antacids. The hospital rolls Pandemic The Magic Bicycle into a treatment room behind the curtain and I realize I might be there for a while. Are you Anorexic? I mustered a laugh and said no, I am a bicycle tourist, however, anorexia and bicycle touring are remarkably similar in the hunger department. Where’s your Husband? Casper (the ghost), he is on vacation. Are You Alone? I am part of the International Social Club, we are always looking for new members…the questioning begins.

After a day of sonograms, iv bags, blood tests, 8 more pukes and 7 hours of observation for a sun burnt face that isn’t a fever , appendicitis, peptic ulcers, non-existent diarrhea, anorexia and being single, I decide it is time to leave the hospital. For the same reason that I would never take an old car to a mechanic because they will only find something to fix. My old worn out stomach is not improving what so ever so I decide to go into the next big city and self medicate and if it doesn’t improve I will go back to the hospital. I legally discharge myself with a written statement that says…

Dear Universe, thank you for healing my tummy

My treatment in this hospital has been wonderful. I love Iran, I will definitely visit again, blah, blah blah…. That’s where I am now, discharged, feeling better in a guest house, drinking chamomile, peppermint tea, flat 7-up, eating plain pasta, bread and antacids, sleeping and waiting for my belly to settle so I can pedal the rest of the way through Iran before the snow flys in the Middle East.

Oh Shit!

“Oh shit” RUN!!!! I hear my two friends say as we stand midst a joyous crowd of thousands of dancing, singing, honking and smiling people. I am short in a crowd, actually I am short even not in a crowd. However, regardless of my vertically challenged position, I cannot see that the riot police have just pulled a AK-47 on the crowd. As the crowd turns toward me with childlike playful smiles, the seas of running Pakistani men engulf me like a bore tide on a full moon.

Where I come from, it is what you call a stampede. I get separated from my friends and after running 100 feet like the lunatics among me, I find myself beached to a standstill, amongst the crowd, giggling, thinking WTF am I doing? After all, doesn’t every travel advisor on the planet right now warn against non essential travel to Pakistan and issues a strict warning to avoid all public gatherings, especially of the nationalistic kind. But this is so much fun and the crowds of folks are so happy to see foreigners that we are welcomed as guests by drum circles and dancing. It is hard to say it is unsafe and much easier to say it is the best party I have been too in quite some time.

As I look up amongst the shoulders and backs I see a riot policeman high on a horse laughing at me as I stand alone giggling in the mess of happy crazed people. He motions me towards him and from his horse tall view can see my friends and reunites me with my two crowd loving friends, an Ozzie woman who is a English teacher in China and British hitchhiker from Oxford University. Amidst the parting of the rioting sea of lunatics, we were scattered in opposite directions.

We are two wooden barricades, and only ¼ kilometer from the Independence Day Celebration at the Pakistan/India border at Wagagh. However, thousands of people and a general atmosphere of compete joyful insanity quickly ends our scurry to go see whatever is up ahead. For, the journey had clearly replaced the destination, on this Independence Day celebrating Pakistan’s separation from India, for 3 travelers from across the globe.

(all photos in this post are courtesy of Lune Staar, Ozzie woman who is a English teacher in China)

Perk My Pedal, The World’s Greatest Men

On my, oh la la, look at him. At times, while pedaling the world there is a shortage of snow peaked mountains and cascading rivers on which to drool. Therefore, I find my attention drifts with a girlish like grin towards the men that surround me as I cycle the world. After all, I never could stay away from the boys.

New Zealand is as sexy a destination as any to venture by bicycle. Due to it’s proximity to Antarctica, one can enjoy pedaling next to tepid snowy mountains one day and delicious warm sandy beaches the next. But it is the men that drew my heart to this country of islands. They are outdoorsy by nature, honest by design and everyone seems to head out for a weekend bicycle ride. The men are nice on the eyes and always up for a chat. These guys are about as appealing and cute as it gets.

The Tibetan Region, Western China My current location, in fact, I am writing this from my tent waiting out the freezing rain as the snow accumulates around me on the surrounding Himalaya Mountains. Hot it is not right now but the people here in the Tibet region of Western China are as warm and beautiful as people get. Smiley, welcoming, caring and kind, these folks will warm your heart faster than a hug. At least a dozen men today have stopped to check on me, give me water, food, or offer me tea, a ride if I wanted and a Tashi Delai, which means good luck and good wishes.

On shear heart size and energy alone, the people here will certainly perk your pedal. Long haired men, colorfully adorned and the occasional nomadic herdsmen to bout, no joke, I have always had a thing for nomadic men that smell like horses, oh la la the smell of a nomad. Now that’s my kind of company.

Mongolia. I do believe that I have more testosterone than a lot of the men in Asia. I have never been the tallest kid in the class. However, I tower over many Asian men in size and clearly have minimal issues with getting my hands dirty. Now with that said, venture across any land border into Mongolia, my favorite country and it is a whole different world of Asian oh la la. The men flirt, are tall and strong in stature and joke around without end. Life in Mongolia gets sexier by the mile, nomadic by nature, with an instant connection to a fellow traveler. The men are self sufficient, jack of all trades, playful, kind and a whole lot of fun. I do believe I love Mongolia and it’s joyous men.

What, where, who perks your pedal? Let’s hear it with a comment below.

Is This Skalatitude Or Shangri-La?

As the sun dips behind the mountains in the Yunnan province of western China, the alluring clouds of the afternoon majestic light propel me frontward. A splendid day of pedaling over the charmed mountains down to the alluring Yangtze River and my first wide eyed glance at spacious snow capped mountains burst my vision with energetic exhilaration.

An enchanted spirited region at every turn, Pandemic the Magic Bicycle, an unforgettable companion and another beloved cycling experience embedded into memory. The rushing river echoes from the banks, ricochets from the surrounding hills and creates a harmonic percussion, a warm auditory delight that sparkles within my colossal beaming smile. The 5400m snow topped mountains stand watch as the afternoon begins to cool. The chilly air, darkening clouds and a 20 minute near bruising hail storm is quickly forgotten as Tibetan prayer flags flap in the breeze.

Please come to my Tibetan home for some butter tea? I like bicycle. A beautiful woman with a heart the size of the hills has adopted me and would like to warm me up. As we sit crossed legged by the rustic oven fire, Ms. Zhe Zhu Zhuo Ma and her son prepare butter tea. My new friend has taught herself English because while in the city she ate some western pizza and discovered that she loves pizza. She would like to turn her Tibetan home into a pizza restaurant some day. Her husband bought her a pizza maker/flat waffle iron and she now makes her Tibetan bread on her “pizza machine”. As I warm my tummy with butter tea which is closer in consistency to soup then tea, I enjoy a fire cooked meal of cabbage and Tibetan bread made on a pizza machine. My new friend tells me that the mountain, I have been grinning at all day is a very special mountain for the Tibetan people; it is a place of pilgrimage for many and mentioned in the seventh section of the Tibetan spiritual book.

4 pot traditional cook stove, one each for water, milk, yak butter and tea

As the fire cools, the afternoon slips by and with my belly full of butter tea; I am saddened to say good-bye. I tuck my departing gift, a piece of wolf fur into my pocket and continue to pedal the final 30km (about 19miles) through the chilly air into the city of Shangri-La. The pelting hail returns as I smile with gratitude and reminisce of a wonderful afternoon of Tibetan hospitality. I ponder whether this is Skalatitude or Shangri-La as I arrive into the town amidst smiles and warm welcomes to warm up with more butter tea and a stroll through the cobblestone streets of Shangri-La.

Top 3 Things To Do On A Rest Day…Eat, Sleep, Pole Dance!

3. Eat, Eat, Eat After 2 breakfasts, 3 lunches, one ice cream cone, 3 bananas , 1 apple, I peer down at my wooden leg , begin to ponder how similar my diet is to that of a pregnant obese lady and wonder what I might find to eat for dinner.

We all know that daily exercise does require calories and muscle recovery does require protein but at times on a rest day I wonder exactly how someone who weighs 49kilos (108 pounds) can possibly consume her weight in food in one day.

Pig Heads…could I ever be that hungry?

2. Sleep. I met Nico a French cyclist who has been bicycle touring for two years. Today is actually his two year anniversary and we had ice cream together to celebrate. Nico was laughing because he told me that while on a rest day he often goes to sleep at 2pm and wakes up the next morning, full of smiles and energy to continue his bicycle tour. I personally am a huge fan of the nap. Wake up, eat breakfast and while fully fed go back to bed for another power snooze.

Two Cyclists Catch A Quick Nap On a Slow Boat Near China

1. Take A Pole Dancing Lesson. Why does beer taste so good in foreign lands after days of camping and pedaling? As my nickname Betty Ford resurfaces in a dozen countries due to my Canadian’s livers love of international barley drinks my vocabulary to say the word beer in at least as many languages has been growing by the continent. Relaxing in the local expat bar can also have recreational benefits as well. Last week in Dali, China my fellow bicycle tourist Tim from Sweden got a pole dance lesson from a professional pole dancer.

She was kind enough to show us her newly acquired skills that she learned at the pole dancing academy. I also gave pole climbing a shot and will report that flipping upside down and then sliding down a 55mm metal pole with any amount of grace is far more challenging than it looks.

Splash!

Splash! What the???? What is going on here? Throughout my 20 months of bicycle touring I have been handed bottles of water from cars and thumbs up of support but here in the Yunnan Province of South West China things have drastically changed. Buckets of water are getting thrown at me as I pedal along.

The temperature is sticky and sweaty, and a quick bath is not a bad idea after weeks of camping. However, being blinded by copious amounts of beige water from various sources has left me with a new found respect for Ray Charles.

Ironic Camel Rides At The Water Festival

The water festival is a national holiday loved by the locals and feared by cyclists. As the sadistic saturation continues I drip dry and make my way north into the Yunnan Mountains.

Pedaling down a 21km (14mile) descent in the mtns.

As I climb high and tackle 30 km climbs, crest the top and receive from the cycling gods, a 21 km descent, a car with tinted windows pulls over, rolls the window down and points a yellow high power water rifle out the window. Armed with a water gun, the jovial man takes a shot at me, a drive by bucket bath, gangster style in the remote mountains. I am hoping he doesn’t return reloaded with more blinding pond water.

As I arrive into the hillside stoned walled village of Dali, locally known as Chinese Disneyland due to it’s popularity, the water festival is a passing memory. The temperatures have plummeted and with several 4000metres plus passes ahead on the road it is time to stock up on winter pedaling gear for the cold winter nights and predicted rain ahead.

Rub A Dub Dub In The Photos Bathtub

Rub-a-dub-dub,Three men in a tub,And how do you think they got there? The butcher, the baker,The candlestick-maker, They all jumped out of a rotten potato, Twas’ enough to make a fish stare…

While 5 cyclists head up the Nam Ou river in Northern Laos during the dry season the adventure begins not with 3 men in a tub but by 5 cyclists loading 5 bicycles with full gear and 14 passengers aboard a shallow long wooden boat. Together we all venture NW along the river through the cascading shallow current , amongst local fisherman and happy children as we head towards the starting point for the mountain road to China. After we destroyed propeller number three on the river floor rocks, trekked up the river bank on foot around the shallow rapids and then pushed the boat through the river, the adventure to China begins…..Please enjoy the photos for words alone cannot do this adventure justice.

Most mornings in the mountains of Laos begin with a captive audience of little locals

Despite the locals having a PHD in loading stuff, 5 cyclist still come up with a great plan on
how to pack 5 bicycles on to a boat

My NEW shipped for free to anywhere Be The Adventure T-shirt came in handy on the river adventure

Fishing For Dinner

Pushing a boat can tucker out a couple of cyclists faster then a mountain road

Because even the captain needs a good nap once in a while!

There Is A Big Mountain In The Way!

As five cyclists, new friends head together through the mountains, the food is scarce, the laughter is not. Three days and 300km of hills later the rolling crew of 5 spring forth, bellies full of sticky rice and rat on a stick. To the cultural heritage city of Luang Prabang we arrive like gorillas escaping from the forest looking forward to some well earned Laos beer and food that doesn’t involve noodle soup or barbequed rodent.

Tim and Emanuel, two handsome Swedish guys who would like all of you ladies to know that they are single, and team Canada, a French Canadian couple who would like you all to know that they were fully sponsored with gear and cash as they pedaled a crossed Canada last year and would like the good fortune to continue as they pedal the world. They can be contacted through their website. The Swedish hotties also have an amazing website (video blogs in English) with GPS and navigation data that could give NASA technology a run for their money, and video capabilities that Steven Spielberg would smile about.

A village school along the way proved to be a wonderful campground, and dozens of curious children provided the evening and early morning entertainment. Team Canada spent the morning involved in an outdoor cooking class with the locals as the Swedish hotties did calisthenics to tighten their rock hard abs, wrote letter to their moms, and played with the children to start the day in the mountains.

Tomorrow after I wait for the cute Swedish pair to balance their 6 digit bank accounts, the party of 5 will head for a long boat to float the Nam Ou River and will jump off at the road and pedal north into China. May the camping, laughter, outstanding blogging, photos and fun continue… “Adventure Cycling Is The New Religion/The New Rock And Roll” A quote by Tim from Sweden, enjoy the YouTube video!